No Place of Refuge Page 29

  ‘So she’s gone,’ he said in a hollow voice. ‘She’s dead, or she’s taken – I don’t know which is worse.’

  Rachel wanted to console him without falling into the trap of offering him false hope. Since she couldn’t think of a way to do that, she scrambled to her feet. ‘We can try to get answers,’ she said. ‘Then we can take it from there.’

  Nate looked around the lounge as if his eyes were having trouble focusing. ‘Where’s Esa?’

  ‘He’s waiting for Sehr at the airport.’

  ‘And Inspecteur Roux? Christ, she could have told me this the day I landed. How much time has she cost us?’

  Rachel was able to consider this with more objectivity than Nate. She hadn’t known that his pain would resonate so personally, or that her feelings had deepened to this extent. She had suffered the agony of Zach’s disappearance – she couldn’t bear what was happening to Nate.

  He wanted Esa, she could see. He wanted reassurance from his closest friend because he knew Esa would offer hope. So she tried to act in Esa’s stead.

  ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘They’ve been searching for Audrey longer than we have, with first-hand knowledge of her actions. That time isn’t lost. Our actions support theirs – not the other way around.’

  She grabbed his hands and held them in her own. His amber eyes focused on her face. After a moment, he nodded.

  ‘You’ve got to hold it together. Audrey needs you to think.’ She worked up the nerve to say a little more. ‘You’re not alone,’ she mumbled, amazed at herself for taking the risk. ‘I won’t leave you alone.’

  His expression softened. He shifted his hands so they were holding Rachel’s. For a moment, she felt weightless, hopeful and expectant.

  ‘There are so many things about you, Rachel. So many things that I –’ He broke off. ‘Where were you going?’

  Encouraged by this beginning, she responded, ‘I’ll explain on the way.’

  She had a hazy memory of the volunteers in Moria. A Danish girl named Freja with blond hair, and a young man who was a translator. She stopped at each NGO and described them. No one seemed to know them, but she was directed to the service tents near the toilets.

  The stench assailed her nostrils, but Nate didn’t seem to notice. There was a zeal in his eyes that disturbed her because it was so familiar. So many times she’d thought she had the answer to Zachary’s disappearance. Each time she’d been wrong.

  When she’d met Khattak three years ago, she’d been going through the motions, angry at everyone, angriest at herself. She prayed the same thing wouldn’t happen to Nate.

  She thought of Audrey’s teasing e-mail to Ruksh. I hope Nate doesn’t blow this thing with Rachel.

  She was trying not to look at the truth, trying not to accept it. Whatever this was between her and Nate – and she wasn’t sure what she wanted it to be – part of her knew it was over. She would always be tied to the outcome of this case, and to its prospects for grief.

  She knew what Zach’s disappearance had done to her parents.

  She couldn’t bear to be the reminder of someone’s tragedy again. They found Freja at the tent that dispensed hot chocolate.

  She didn’t remember Rachel, but she took Rachel’s ID as evidence of her right to ask questions. She snatched a tray of hot chocolates and led them to a less crowded corner. Rachel’s gaze skipped from one of the children’s faces to another, though she didn’t know what she was searching for. Perhaps she was making her own record.

  She was still staggered by the figure Sehr had quoted her: ten thousand missing children. And she wondered how hard it would have been to record their photographs and names.

  Rachel asked after the translator. Freja told them he’d left the camp. Rachel kept her face impassive; she didn’t want Nate to view his absence as a setback.

  ‘You mentioned a girl who fought off an attack in the camp. You said she’d scratched her assailant. Is that girl still here?’

  Freja shook her head. ‘She moved on to Athens a few days after the incident. I have no idea where she is now.’

  ‘Was she alone?’ Rachel asked. In her peripheral vision, a group of children were playing with a set of cardboard shapes in a game of their own invention.

  ‘No, she had parents and younger brothers. She had taken a walk to the beach by herself – you know where the road meets the beach?’

  That allowed for the possibility of the van. She pressed ahead. ‘Was it a physical assault?’

  Freja looked uncertain. ‘She says the man was tall and very strong. She couldn’t see his face, but he was trying to get her in the van.’

  Nate gripped the lapels of his jacket. ‘You were right,’ he said in a tight voice.

  Rachel cautioned him. Their knowledge about the trafficking ring had to be kept to themselves until they were given the all clear from Roux. There was also the possibility that the van had been used to take the girl to another location for the purpose of sexual assault.

  ‘Did she see the van? Could she describe it?’

  Freja nodded, her ponytail bouncing with her desire to be of use. ‘She gave us the license plate. You can use it to crack the case.’

  Rachel took a breath to calm herself. ‘Do you still have that number?’

  The girl beamed with pride. She pulled out her phone: she’d kept a record for herself.

  ‘Did you report the incident to the police?’

  ‘Of course! But I don’t know if they followed up. No one got back to us, but we’ve been keeping an eye on the kids.’

  ‘Freja –’ Rachel hesitated. She had to ask her next question with utmost care. ‘Why did you warn that father about bad men? You said “men,” not “man.” Was there a reason why?’

  Bemused, the girl answered, ‘Did I? I don’t remember that. But you hear things, you know. All around the island. Men coming in after the boats arrive, strangers in the camp who aren’t volunteers. Sometimes kids come for meals several days in a row, then we don’t see them again. If we check back with the authorities, they say they can’t keep track. The intake process is a sieve. So we worry about these kids, though there’s nothing we can do without better institutional support.’

  She was confirming Rachel’s suspicions. ‘You said the men in the camp were strangers?’

  When Freja nodded, Rachel described the men she’d seen on Chios. She also described Papadakis at the Athena.

  ‘But those men are Greeks! I’m sorry, the strangers in the camp weren’t Greeks.’

  Freja was describing volunteers like herself.

  39

  Mytilene, Lesvos

  Esa waited for Sehr to join him in the lounge. He’d had a brief conversation with Rachel, who was on her way back from interviewing a witness. She was stopping off at the local police station, and she and Nate had split up the car rental agencies on the island in the hopes of tracking down a van that might be the same one Sami had spotted. He hoped Sehr would hurry so they’d have a chance to speak about more than just the case.

  She’d been tired when he picked her up at the airport, but she’d put her mind to Audrey’s disappearance on the drive back to the guesthouse. She’d left Amélie Roux in Athens. Esa guessed Roux was coordinating her team’s operation on the ground, advising the Greek police. He’d been strictly warned through Sehr not to jeopardize their work.

  He didn’t see how he could. He was no closer to finding Audrey than the day he’d arrived on Lesvos. Rachel had warned him of Nate’s increasing agitation at their lack of progress. He intended to speak to Nate as soon as he returned.

  When Sehr came down from her room, the manager suggested they take their tea in the garden. Esa agreed, holding the door for Sehr, disturbed when her body brushed his.

  They chose to walk along the wall that separated the terrace from the rambling descent to the sea. The waves brushed the
shore in a sinuous rhythm. The light was beginning to die, a vast expanse of gold flung over igneous blues. Looking at the sea now, he couldn’t imagine the crossing as other than a voyage of grace.

  It had been a warm day. The stone wall retained that warmth as Esa leaned against it. He studied Sehr’s face. She had changed into a flame-colored dress and wore a silk pashmina. Her hair was brushed into shining waves; her skin was smooth and glowing.

  She had dressed for him, he thought, and knew a surge of longing that shocked him.

  They hadn’t spoken of personal things; he’d made no admissions to himself. To sort out his tangled emotions with Audrey still missing was something he wasn’t prepared for. Yet Sehr was here with him now, and her presence was illuminating his ability to deceive himself about things he urgently desired. Her comfort, her support, the warmth of her respect, the sense she knew the things about him that mattered, and that she understood.

  He turned at her side to face the sea, his arm touching hers, conscious of a fraught new awareness. He wanted something he wasn’t entitled to. He didn’t know how to ask for it.

  She looked up into his face and said, ‘Do you still want me out of your life?’

  She’d given him the opening he needed. Quickly he answered, ‘No.’ The faltering breath she drew was painful for him to hear. He’d been arrogant and self-involved. He had some sense now of how he’d hurt her, of how he was still thinking of himself. Of what Sehr could give him, instead of the things she was due.

  She looked back at the sea, and instantly he missed the intimacy of her glance. She was following the path of fishing boats sailing in to shore. A child raced madly down the hill; his laughter reached the terrace as the sun burned down to the sea.

  Sehr’s shawl slipped from her shoulder. He caught its folds and draped it at her neck, his fingers touching her collarbone. She freed herself from his touch, a mutinous spark in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t you want this?’

  Her mouth firmed, she raised her chin. ‘What makes you think I would?’

  ‘Sehr.’ He said her name and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he pushed past his misgivings. How often must Sehr have experienced the same self-doubt in his presence.

  ‘Don’t you?’

  Tears flooded her eyes. ‘Damn you for doing this to me. You’ve never given me anything. I doubt you ever will.’

  His face tightened at her reproach, the pain of it striking hard because of how deeply it was warranted.

  ‘I haven’t been honest with myself.’

  When everything he was coming to want was poised at the edge of loss, he knew each word he spoke to her mattered.

  He didn’t mention Samina – he didn’t dare to. With her quickness of mind, Sehr unraveled the nature of his struggle – his sudden, sharp sense of fear. There was a softening in her face, a willingness to offer him things he hadn’t earned. Where did her generosity spring from? He couldn’t meet her on her ground, so he did what his instincts were telling him to do.

  He took Sehr in his arms.

  He could smell the jasmine on her skin. He curved a hand under her hair to turn her face up to his. He kissed her deeply, taking his time, a slow warmth flooding his senses. When he raised his head again, her hands had come up to rest beneath his shoulders.

  In a voice darkened by desire, he asked, ‘Do you want me to apologize for that?’

  ‘Do you want to?’ she countered.

  ‘No.’ Impatiently, he kissed her again.

  She wound her arms about his neck, drawing him close to her heart. The gate banged with unnecessary force. Rachel was standing there, a startled expression on her face. He shifted to draw Sehr away, but he kept his hand at her waist.

  In a gruff voice, Rachel said, ‘Ruksh is trying to reach you. She called me when she couldn’t get through.’

  She held up her phone in her hand. The moment was weighted in ways Khattak couldn’t decipher; he only knew he couldn’t hurt Sehr again.

  He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, making his longing clear.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said under his breath. ‘For the interruption.’ And in a louder voice so Rachel could hear, ‘I’ll have to take this. You know how persistent Ruksh is.’

  Sehr gave him a shaky smile; the fist that squeezed his heart unclenched. She hadn’t given up on him. He could still afford to hope.

  He took Rachel’s phone with a word of thanks, leaving the two women alone.

  Rachel cursed herself for the awkwardness of her timing. She was a detective, for God’s sake, but not for a moment had she guessed at Khattak’s feelings. She could see the radiance in Sehr’s eyes, and something about it hurt her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rachel,’ Sehr said.

  Rachel flushed to the roots of her hair. She had no idea why Sehr was apologizing – she didn’t want to find out. Her normal wisecracking abilities deserted her; she opted for clarity instead.

  ‘I’m sorry. I try not to blunder into other people’s business.’

  Seeing her embarrassment, Sehr asked after Nate.

  ‘He’s checking out a car rental. He should be back any minute.’

  ‘Where is Sami al-Nuri? I’d like to talk to him myself.’

  Rachel didn’t ask why. She didn’t want to be in Sehr’s company, prey to the kinds of confidences she imagined women unlike herself might share, but she had to wait for Khattak. She was relieved from her discomfort by his reappearance.

  ‘Anything urgent, sir?’

  He smiled at her. ‘Ruksh could have told you as easily, but she wanted to hear my voice.’

  Rachel tipped her head and waited, knowing the news would be welcome to Khattak – a conciliatory act on Ruksh’s part after such prolonged discord.

  ‘She remembered something.’ He held out a hand to bring Sehr to his side. ‘Audrey mentioned a meeting with someone on the island, Ruksh said it sounded important. She thinks the person’s name was Lenny. I’ll have a look at her e-mails to see if we missed it before.’

  Rachel was swamped by a wave of panic. ‘I don’t remember someone named Lenny in the e-mails.’

  Khattak didn’t hear her. He was reading the e-mails on his phone. Rachel cast a glance at Sehr, needing help she couldn’t ask for. Though Khattak took his time scrolling through the list, Rachel’s thought processes had stalled, absorbed by what she’d interrupted. She knew the moment he found the e-mail because he put his phone away, the light in his eyes growing dark.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘There’s no mention of Lenny.’

  ‘Esa, what’s wrong?’ Sehr caught it too; unlike Rachel, she had the right to reach for him to console him. She curled her fingers around his wrist, a careful gesture of comfort.

  Nate banged through the gate before Esa could answer.

  ‘Rachel!’ His breath was coming fast. He must have run up the hill.

  ‘You found the car?’

  He nodded vigorously, taking a moment to catch his breath.

  ‘Esa, Rachel – listen. It’s not from a car rental. But the clerk at the agency knows who owns it because he doubles as a mechanic at the garage. He knew the plate, the description, everything.’

  He looked round the circle of three expectant faces, a desperate hope in his eyes.

  ‘It belongs to a member of the Hellenic Rescue Team. Her name is Eleni Latsoudi.’

  40

  Mytilene, Lesvos

  They left Sehr and Nate at the guesthouse, speaking with the rapid-fire familiarity that was second nature to them as partners. Khattak hailed a cab to take them to Eleni Latsoudi’s little house on the hill. It was dark out; all the lights were looped around the harbor, the sky a purple-veiled dome. He focused on making sense of Eleni’s connection to the van.

  Eleni was Lenny.

  As a member of the Hellenic Rescue Team, cou
ld she be behind Israa’s disappearance? She was in an ideal position to identify the vulnerable, out on the seas every day. But that didn’t fit with the woman he’d met, the woman who’d told him, The water will break your heart.

  Had his skills and insight so failed him that he’d missed seeing the rot at the core of Eleni’s charade? Was it no different than the way he’d missed his sister’s deepening rancor? Thoughts of Ruksh overshadowed the fragile happiness he was struggling to protect.

  Eleni wasn’t on duty. She welcomed them in, her shoulders wrapped in a hand-knitted blanket, a book and a glass of wine on the table near her sofa. She invited them to sit, dropping the blanket to the sofa, using her fingers to comb out her hair. They remained on their feet, their eyes searching the house.

  Khattak now noticed the covered portico at the back of the little house, visible from the patio. He nodded at Rachel. The van wasn’t there, but the little station wagon Eleni had driven to the beach the other night was parked in a space big enough for two cars. Its tires were mud-spattered; it hadn’t been washed.

  ‘Is that your only car, Eleni?’

  ‘No,’ she said, turning to follow his gaze. Picking up on the seriousness of his manner, she added, ‘Why? Is something wrong?’

  ‘Where’s your other car? You live alone, don’t you? Why do you need two cars?’

  A frown on her face, she led them out to inspect the portico. ‘The other is a van,’ she said. ‘Someone must have borrowed it.’

  A pair of olive trees was growing to the side of the portico. They skirted these to reach the empty space.

  ‘How could they do that without your knowledge?’

  ‘I leave it unlocked. The keys are always inside.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’ A hard note entered his voice. Her explanation was unconvincing. ‘It might get stolen.’

  Eleni shivered in the breeze that swept the hill. Confused, she said, ‘On Lesvos? We don’t lock our houses. I leave my van unlocked because volunteers use it to ferry passengers from the beach to the camps.’